


You're Not a Bitter Man

by saigne



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angela/mercy is in it but it's five lines so yeah, Angst, Jack isn't strike commander yet, Jealousy, M/M, about five, honestly gabe being jealous and angsting, maybe less, pre fall of overwatch, relationship implied, well more in denial pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 16:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7369078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saigne/pseuds/saigne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel Reyes doesn't do well with sharing, especially not the people important to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Not a Bitter Man

**Author's Note:**

> This is equal parts projecting my issues on to Gabriel and also partly a set up for why their relationship went to shit when Jack was promoted to strike commander. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also I tried to proof read this but I didn't have anyone beta it so apologies for any errors ahead of time.

You're not good at making friends. Never have been. Too loud and too blunt and too quick to say what's on your mind. Sure you've been able to form small bonds over things with people, especially now that you're in the military, but never friends. The difference between friend and acquaintance is a distinction that's important to you. 

It helps when you're barking orders on the field or a training run, but it pushes everyone away. You told yourself that you're fine with that. You don't need friends in war. It's almost impressive how jaded you already are. 

And then there's Jack Morrison. A literal ray of sunshine, always smiling and going on about what's right and he reminds you of the old Captain America movies you used to fawn over when you were a child. A modern day Steve Rogers. You wonder if that makes you Bucky or Sam. 

Whether you like it or not, he's your friend, something you fought against it tooth and nail. Except it's impossible to resist Jack, and for better or worse he chose you. He worked his way past your shell with blinding smiles and terrible humor and comfort and before you knew it you were smiling back. Suddenly you two were inseparable, a perfect team and even in training you complimented the other. You were unstoppable. 

And now here you are, leaning against a wall glaring as Ja- Morrison walks down the hall with the doctor you both had pressured into joining. Ironically, it was at your insistence that the two of you went, knowing the research of Angela Zeigler was to valuable to let slip through your grip. 

And so as a result, Morrison made another friend. And now you're on the sidelines, the stinging feeling familiar and still infuriating, always coming when you see him with someone else. 

It's not just jealousy, painful as it is to admit that you're jealous of someone in the first place. It's fear too. Fear that you're being replaced by someone better. You know you're rought and full of jagged edges and it's a miracle he still talks to you but still you're scared. Scared that this is the day he finally starts to avoid you and drift away. That he realizes how terrible you are and abandons you. The feeling coils in your chest like a snake, chilling you to the core and you want to reach in and rip it out, kill it. It's not easy to replace years of companionship m, you tell the snake. 

But what if he does, the snake hisses back. 

It's become a pattern, one that doesn't change now. He brings another fresh face into his circle, and you pull back. You don't know if it's to keep yourself safe or if it's to hurt him, because within a day he's at the door to your shared quarters, hunting you down. He never asks what's wrong, something that pisses you off and relieves you in equal measure. Instead he just spends time with you, slowly pulling you back to his side and you're still so weak for Jack Morrison. 

You try not to think about that would happen if he didn't come to you. 

You try not to wonder if he knows what you're doing, or if he thinks your actions are a coincidence. 

The room is quiet, mother of you speaking past the greetings and movement of fabric as he settles beside you. Niether of you even need to speak to communicate right now, a fact you're grateful for. You hope he never gets this close to someone else, possessive as that sounds.

"Where's the good doctor?" You're leaning against him, staring at a wall when you finally break the silence that settled between you. 

He chuckles softly, straightening his body just enough to roll his shoulders before laying against you again. "Mess hall. I was supposed to show her around but I left her in Lena's care." He pauses for a moment before continuing. "Had something to take care of."

The admission sends a thrill down your spine, every part of you pleased that he left her for you. It's satisfying and fulfilling and you really don't want to share him with anyone else. It's probably a little creepy, but you're bad at sharing and he means to much to you to lose. 

If you were honest with yourself, more so than you have been, you'd let yourself want more instead of denying it and yourself. You'd know why seeing him happy with someone else makes you so bitter. Why the world feels like it's slipping out from under your feet. But you don't, because denial is what you do best. 

Instead you laugh loud and hard, pushing down thoughts that threaten to break past carefully constructed walls. You put an arm around his shoulders, jostling him a little. "Is your new date cute at least?" 

He snorts in response, shaking his head and you make yourself ignore the pink spreading across his face. It doesn't- can't - mean anything. "Very cute."

The comment makes you preen, even as you tell yourself he's just joking. Just messing around like you. He doesn't think you're cute, and maybe he doesn't think you're ugly, but there's no way Morrison could be attracted to you. 

Where the hell did that thought come from?

You shake your head, sighing dramatically. "Come one, maybe if we go now you can catch her." 

You stand, pulling him with you despite his complaints until you're both standing and this means you're fine now. You are, mostly. You straighten up your gear, stepping away from him and your side feels cold suddenly without his body against it. You wonder if he feels the loss as deeply as you do, shaking the thought from your head. It's a risky line of thought. 

You both start to walk to the door and he stops you after only a few steps, hand on your arm. "Hey, are you..." 

 

There's a pregnant pause and a million options of what the final word could be flash through your head. Final phrase. Instead, after what feels like hours but it less than a second he finally speak. 

"Okay?"

You want to laugh at the question. It's so anticlimactic it's like a joke, and you grin at him in response, not even knowing the answer. It's probably no. 

"Why, you worried?" The reply comes out amused, and you quirk an eyebrow up at him, not fully facing him but head turned in his direction. "I'm flattered."

He frowns, eyes narrowed and he's thinking and that's dangerous. "I always worry about you. Shut up."

"Make me."

You don't give him a chance to respond, walking out with an amused laugh that's nothing but fake to your ears and you pray he can't tell. You hold the door open, letting it fall shut once he's through and lead him towards the mess hall, looking for the blond doctor. You wanted his attention earlier and now it's almost too much. You're a mess. 

You both approach the table she's at, greeting the fast talking girl beside her as well. It's normal and nice and you don't feel like dragging him away to pay attention to you because he already ditched them for you and right now that's enough. 

You try to stop yourself from wondering what would happen if he didn't drop everyone else to come to your side.


End file.
